Page 47 of Drake Eternal

“You’re going to spoil the mood, old man,” I said with a laugh.

We entered the brightly lit interior of the hotel and went directly to the bar, which was at the west side of the hotel next to its lavish restaurant. The bar was busy, with a dozen or so patrons sitting at tables or drinking at the long bar with ornate brass fixings. Some music was playing over the sound system, and there were even a few people up dancing on the small dance floor.

I was honestly too tired to be there, let alone having a drink or dancing, but I wanted to make Michael happy. I took in a deep breath and put on a smile when we saw a few of our staff sitting at a large table to the side of the room.

The one staff member I did not want to see was there as well.

Sam Cuttington.

If I never saw her face again, it would be too soon.

I felt a vague sense of unease and decided to make sure I sat nowhere near her for the entire night. If she joined my table, or tried to make conversation, I’d excuse myself and leave, using a text as an excuse.

Most of all, I hated that she could force proximity to me whenever she wanted because we worked together at the same hospital again. Since I’d reported her and she’d been disciplined, lost her job, and was reinstated on an emergency basis, we had only passed each other in the hall.

I hoped it stayed that way until this was over, and she was gone.

“I’ll get us a drink,” I said and pointed to the bar. “Do you want your usual?”

“Yes, thanks,” Michael said and pointed to an empty table next to the group. “Join me there.”

I nodded and went to the bar to order us drinks — a craft beer for Michael and a bottle of water for me. I didn’t want to drink at all, because I was exhausted and wanted to stay awake so I could Skype with Kate and Sophie as soon as I could reasonably escape to my room. Then, drinks in hand, I went over to the table where Michael was seated. He’d been joined by a couple of staff members, and they were laughing when I sat down and passed him his beer.

“What’s that?” He pointed at my bottle of water with a frown. “Water? This is supposed to be fun. You’re getting old, young man.”

I laughed. “I have to be sober for my nightly Skype with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughter.”

I glanced around and raised my bottle of water. “Cheers, and thanks to everyone for your hard work in a crisis.”

I noted that Sam was frowning at me, and I wondered if it was my reference to my beautiful wife and child. Regardless, I opened the bottle and had a long drink of the cool fresh water.

The four of us spoke for a while about the floods, about the workload, and about the game of soccer that was being replayed on the flatscreens around the room. Nairobi residents and the guests of the hotel were all rabid soccer fans. It was impossible to escape soccer.

We sat and drank our drinks, chatted about work and the weather, and before long, Michael got us another round of drinks.

Then another.

Soon enough, I was feeling more relaxed. Sam hadn’t done or said anything that would indicate she was angry at me. Then, when I was up at the bar getting another bottle of water, Sam sidled up next to me.

“You’re no fun tonight.” She smiled, but I could see hate in her eyes all the same.

“I have an early surgery,” I said and grabbed the bottle of water and glass of beer for Michael.

“You used to be more fun, if I remember correctly. You loved doing shots. I seem to remember vodka shots off my belly or between my breasts.”

I said nothing and started walking back to the table. “I’m a happily married man now. And like I said, I want to be in good shape for tomorrow.”

“Party pooper. I just bought you a vodka martini. With olives, if I remember correctly. Consider it a peace offering. If we’re going to work together for the next few weeks, we can at least be civil towards each other.”

She pointed to the table and sure enough, there was a martini sitting there with a couple of olives on a toothpick. “One vodka — how could that hurt?”

“Thanks. You’re right. We should be civil to each other if we’re going to work together. But as I said to the group, I have a Skype session with my beautiful wife and wonderful daughter coming up. Don’t want either of them to see me drunk.”

I went to the table and sat down, handing Michael his beer. Then, I pointed to the martini.

“Sam bought me a martini, but I’m not drinking. So, if anyone likes them, please be Sam’s guest. Right, Sam?”

She sat across from me and pasted on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Of course. We’re not all grumpy old men.”

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